Alien By Perspective
by Renzin
Summary: Earth was never truly my home; the galaxy is my oyster, and I, a travelling human have no desire to change that. Yet when I faced every star traveller's greatest foe, I have not only survived, but become something entirely different and altogether alien to what I was before. I have a purpose, to shape the outcome of this war, to be a warrior, a hero. I only own my OC's.
1. Chapter 1

Alien By Perspective

The concoction of one's mind when deprived of sleep, fuelled off of stale pizza and surrounded by an insane clan of friends while watching Guardians of the Galaxy, and then proceeding to watch a marathon of various Si-Fi films.

"Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." – Arthur C. Clarke

Chapter 1

She had faced death a thousand times, and yet she hadn't truly felt the certainty of its grasp until today. It stared back at her, in a cacophony of rum purple rims and scattering of stars so concentrated, if not for the painful intensity of their despair, Atalanta would have mistaken them for specs of dusk upon the ship's glass visor.

Death, rather poetically she thought, came in the form of Sector 6F000-'s black hole, 52 clicks from the nearest rock of sentient life, thankfully. That also meant 52 clicks too far for help to reach her ship in time.

Panic was setting in, despite the fact that for once, she was welcoming death, rather than running away (or dishing it out to another). The bottomless hell that crept towards her was both fascinating and utterly soul-wrenchingly terrifying. What would be on the other side? Was there an afterlife? Ghosts? Which religion in all the billions she had heard of in the galaxy was right, or had she been wise to stick to the 'I'll believe it when I see it' route.

These questions were merely her excitable curiosity acting up. Whatever awaited her, she would trudge on through and meet as she always had.

Adaptation.

Her speciality, she could brag.

Hell, others started saying it before she did.

Considering that she was human, probably one of the only ones (scatch that, _the _only one) to have survived like she had outside of Earth's miniscule orbit, she was respected, feared. Ok, perhaps not by _all. _Of course there was the Galactic Senate who were always hovering around her backside lest she break one of their precious laws, and perhaps she did have a habit of double crossing, stealing, killing, black market dealing, speeding, revolting…

Where were we again?

Ahhh yes. So perhaps Atalanta didn't make the most _valiant_ mark on the galaxy, but her name caused people to pause, curse, become weary, in some way _react. _

Her fame stemmed from her godly ambition and nerve, causing her to go above and beyond her role as a bounty hunter, if you could call her that.

Everything about her was a contradiction, as were the events surrounding her life.

Some races considered her exotic, desirable or maybe even dinner. Others as a possible new slave girl, or even down right insect that would be fun to squish.

Being picked up by a fleet of rogue hunter ships after days of floating around the Indian Ocean at 5 years old was sheer luck. Some may think the opposite, but not Atalanta. The holiday cruise she was on had faced a bad bought of storms, and she had snuck out onto the deck, only to be wash over board like a tiny rock. It was a miracle she had survived not drowning in itself, and despite her love of cold weather, she would have died of hypothermia within a few hours had she not been found and treated with their fancy alien medicine when she had been.

They had been chasing down some escaped Forzians for a wealthy merchant, nasty eel like creatures whose skin and fat could get you a lot of credits if you had a silver tongue. Atalanta had been picked up for the amusement of the Captain, a four-armed ex-pirate from sector 777U who thought her long hair was fascinating and a brilliant substitute for a leash to drag her around with. Thanks to his habit of picking up souvenirs, and being rather possessive of them, she was relatively 'safe' from the other crewmembers for a 3 more good human years.

After realising that the Captain's interest of her wellbeing was dwindling, she picked up the art of universal scrapping and fist fighting from the crew to survive, and worked hard when she hid in the engine room on singing. She knew her personal survival depended on how much she was worth, and her skill set. The moment the Captain looked like he was going to hand her over to the cook when rations and credits were low, Atalanta revealed her hidden talent at holding a tune, much to everyone's surprise. And so, she gained more time alive, learning at an early age to best avoid the others, earn favours where she could and learn all that she saw.

Once reaching her first decade of life, Atalanta was a spring little thing that could swing and scurry through the ship like Tarzan among his jungle. Her credits and place in the ship were earned by being useful as both entertainment and the chosen one to do all the little (both literally and of importance) jobs. Despite the various species that roamed the ship, none chose to chase her as food as long as she didn't interact with them for too long.

And so she grew into the ranks of the bounty hunters by the skin of her teeth, which were blunt and useless in comparison to many of her comrades. A natural talent for combat and a keen eye made the Captain notice her again, sending her on short missions in groups as tests. Her own silver tongue and sharp wit developed to save her from her own hot headed arrogance and stubbornness. A light tread and alliance with shadows also proved her a flighty thief as well. All in all, Atalanta became the perfect bounty hunter. Against all odds, she, a _human_, had adapted to the open planes of the galaxy and was _shaped_ by it.

Soon, she struck out on her own, after paying the lengthy debt that the Captain demanded of letting her _live_ for 17 years, and she 'borrowed' a quick scout ship to skip to a far away Sector and cover her tracks in a neutral port. The ports were her favourite places. Thousands of different cultures and life forms all rubbing shoulders in the markets, the engineering of different civilisations hovering next to each other at the docks. There was always work there, always a contract to complete for the right amount of credits.

Humans were considered as one of the baby races of the galaxy. Give them a couple hundred years, and they would become vaguely threatening. They were blind to what was happening, not even capable of reaching the ends of their own solar system. To those who recognised Atalanta for she was, she was certainly a surprise, especially when she started to make a name for herself.

Did you here about the collapse of that Gorgan base north of the capital? Heard it was that Atalanta again; should've known not to put her in a normal prison ship. Lack security an' all. Apparently she blew up the entire barracks just because they gave that ship of hers a dent or something.

Atalanta's on the run again; pissed of the Yautja arbitrators after they were both assigned to the same contract. Heard she did it first and left a nasty sonic bomb as a present.

Teetering the line of criminal and honest livelihood was what she did best; break all the rules, but complete the work you were sent out to do efficiently so that you were just too valuable to eliminate. Eventually, the Galactic Senate had officially employed her with a hefty pay and immunity across the entire galaxy for her services as long she never worked against their interests. That suited her just fine; it gave her even more freedom to explore, fill her ship, the same scout she from all those years ago, with the countless treasures and memories she lived.

No other human had lived like she had; hell, to her, a _normal_ life just wasn't worth it in comparison to hers. She had seen planets explode, the start and end of wars, monstrous races rule over others like nobles. She knew the sounds of the utter silence of space, the loud throng of animation at the ports, the humming of life that seemed to carry the same base in every world she went to. She knew the feel of the skins of a billion organisms, the handle of countless weapons, the punches and kicks of even more opponents.

Not to mention the bruises they left behind.

Occasionally, she'd find a sign that Earth still existed here and there. Clans discussing whether to hunt there in the next season; a teddy bear being sold to a clueless buyer that thought it was an ionic neutraliser for organics; even recordings and data files from the mud ball. Some how, she had salvaged a working radio, and had managed an impressive collection of earth audio files, from soul music, to AM frequency recordings, to intercepted telephone conversations in Nebraska. Like many lone wolves in the galaxy, she was a hoarder. If the Earth ever blew up, she was likely the best archive to preserve its memory around.

Despite all this, she never went back. If she was in denial about missing Earth, it was so pushed back she couldn't feel it anymore. A breathing system embedded in her trachea and lungs allowed her to survive all atmospheres, a translator chip in her spinal cord and brain gave her the opportunity to communicate. Why would she need to go back? Many worlds had nature like earth; many were more advanced, bigger, and funnier. Apart from her archives of audios, pictures, history, clothes and books, there wasn't much else that interested her. Everything she needed to draw in her logs about Earth could be accessed without even being within 20 clicks of the rock.

She was happy. Living a life that constantly was changing like a raging meteor storm. Doubt rarely filled her mind, and loneliness could easily be fought back with temporary companions or a lengthy contract in a team. The end of her life was fogged by the unknown, despite the amount of times she had been in full blown battles, at blaster point, being chased, double crossed, and that one time she had attracted the attention of an extremely horny Kigarian, a race of tentacle haired humanoids whose saliva happened to be poisonous to humans.

Yet after all this, she had almost done a full loop in her life. Her last contract, to run after a primitive human ship that had somehow escaped the clutches of the Yautja, who seemed to class them as their second favourite prey. The winner of first place was of course the Xenomorphs, a pesky race that could be found in most corners of the galaxy. The Galactic Senate had a full time job at keeping their numbers in check, considering that they weren't picky what they impregnated with chest bursters. The idiots on the human vessel didn't even know that a Queen had snuck on board with them, as was confirmed when her body wasn't found at the sight of the hunt or anywhere in range.

Atalanta's mission was simple; she and her partner were to meet up and infiltrate the humans ship, destroy the infestation and make sure the humans didn't get their grubby hands on any advanced tech without inventing it themselves.

Her partner was the only Yautja she particularly liked, and one of the only decent organisms she trusted enough to call something close to a friend. He was a seasoned arbitrator by the name of Barkuub and was over 100 years older than her. Despite trying to skin her and take her head as a trophy when they first met before she left the navy of the Captain's bounty hunters, she had ended up surviving Barkuub long enough to save both of them from a stray grenade, as well as retrieving the relic that the clients wanted for 100,000 credits. After agreeing to save the death match for another time due to Atalanta being surprisingly honourable for a human, they had bumped into each other once or twice, until actually making to effort to collaborate on missions. A respect grew between them, as well as a companionship and fondness that neither had suspected.

They had taken Atalanta's scout ship, being that it's design didn't look nearly as futuristic or threatening as Barkuub's much larger hunting vessel, and had cut off all engines and visible signs of life, hovering in the path of the human's ship and playing possum. As planned, they were pulled into the larger human ship and after being left alone when the locks couldn't be broken and the welders could not break the outer metal, they had snuck out when the loading bay was cleared for the 'night'.

Quickly, the scouting Xenomorphs were found, all killed but for one which lead them towards the nest, which was situated in the women's changing rooms of all places. All life forms that they came across, be it black aliens or fleshy humans were dealt with swiftly.

However, a hitch in the plan had happened. A small group of humans had realised what was happening, and had tried to lure the Xenomorphs to the escape pods. Long story short, one of them had panicked and hid in the engine room, and had gone gung-ho with the grenades and ammunition, causing serious power failure. Enraged, Atalanta and Barkuub had quickly killed the humans, as well as the Xenomorphs, and took on the queen.

She was a giant beast, larger than predicted and cunning. Thwarted again and again, they darted around her, landing blows where they could while avoiding her spiked tail and dripping acid blood.

And then the Queen's tail had swiped Atalanta straight in the stomach, and would have cracked a few ribs if not for her armour. She hit the wall hard, blacking out for a few precious moments, only to wake in agony she had never felt before and hatchling worming its eggs down her throat. Seconds later, Barkuub had ripped it off, hoping that he had been quick enough and together they had taken down the Queen.

But not until she had struck Barkuub, playing dead in her final moments. It was one of the only times Atalanta had screamed and cried for some one else, had killed in revenge as she beat the skull of the Queen in. _Nothing_ could be done. Barkuub's medical kit had smashed hours ago, and the tail was still woven through the hole in his chest. She herself could barely stay conscious. If any drone Xenos had survived, she would be done for. Neither of them were fit to run a full check of the ship, and now neither would be leaving.

She wasn't sure if she was imagining the hissing at first, but if she wasn't, it meant that not all the hive was killed, even if the Queen had died. Another could take over, laying eggs and restarting the entire mess again.

She lay over Barkuub as his neon green blood coated her hands and front like rain. His amber eyes held a fondness that she never had received so truthfully, and it was from a _Yautja_ of all races. She remembered the leathery scales of his skin; the dull final clicks of his mandibles, and the warmth of his hands as they cupped her cheeks. That sent her in another wave of sobs.

She hated him seeing her so weak, when he always said how strong she was for a human. She hated that she was leaving, she hated that she had not noticed that damn hatchling attack her, or the signs of the Queen still breathing she would have every other time. She had been too damn weak, and now both of them were paying.

In her war to prove she could survive the vastness of space when other humans could not, she had lost, finally. The most potent moment of her life would now be kissing Barkuub's ridged forehead as he closed his eyes and his hearts stopped beating.

And now here she was.

Sitting in her good old scout ship that had saved her life countless times. The magnetic clamps she had been given by the Senate were attached to the human's vessel, as she pulled it along behind her. Barkuub's body sat on the small bed at the back of the ship's quarters, the greying light from black space lights gleaming in from the window, so that his once vibrant scales looked like hard granite slabs. To Atalanta, he looked like a fallen knight resting on his stone tomb.

For once, she was going to be heroic, even if she couldn't go back to the Senate and brag about it. Because if she had left the human vessel just floating there, it could have easily been picked up, brought to a planetary habitat and the infestation would spread. She may be a ruthless credit-hunting ex-outlaw, but she _wasn't_ a murderer. She wouldn't let others pay for her failure.

And so, she was dragging the ship to sector 67000-'s infamous black hole, known as the gate stopper by the navy slang.

52 clicks from civilisation, from harm.

It was just her, the body of Barkuub in her scout ship she always refused to let go and a bunch of parasites that needed to be exterminated. And as they were pulled into the pupil of the black hole by the sudden surge and suck of momentum, Atalanta smiled, keeping her eyes open until the very last second, a burst of pain from the chest burster inside her squirming as if it knew of its doom as they ventured into its mouth.

She rubbed the writhing bump on her stomach, chuckling between her bloody coughs with victorious sarcasm. "Look who's winning, you _bitch_. I _never _leave a contract uncompleted."

Faint squealing came from her belly as she screamed, the pull of the black hole now affecting the chest burster's position behind her ribs. After a moment of catching her breath, she forced out more excruciating laughter just to spite the organism inside of her. "Ya' know, I think we need some music, huh?" she batted at the control panels, splattering the grime of hers and Barkuub's blood over them before the radio buzzed to life. The song playing brought a true laugh of joy out, as Within Temptation blasted out.

Atalanta smiled, her ship truly was a work of art, despite the number of times people told her to sell it for scrap. "It truly is my, _last_, _solemn_ _hour_!" She shouted to the stars dramatically.

She clenched her hands on the accelerator bar and her seat, pretending the Barkuub was leaning against the back of her seat like he always did. His heavy smell still lingered with him, though clouded by the stagnant stench of his lifeless shell.

Atalanta's strong voice blasted through the ship as she felt the elating rush of pain, sorrow, joy and an odd sense of peace for sacrificing herself and her life's work that lay in her ship to save the neighbouring planets.

"_Time keeps on slipping away and we haven't learned_

_So in the end now what have we gained?_

_Sanctus Espiritus, redeem us from our solemn hour_

_Sanctus Espiritus, insanity is all around us_

_Sanctus Espiritus, is this what we deserve?_

_Can we break free from chains of never ending agony?" _

She sighed one last time before the black hole's compressing force overcame the movement of the Xeno youngling within her. Every sense she possessed exploded with the inferno of pressure, her wavering screams hidden by her ships own bending rip of metal. Moments later, the human's vessel and the danger on board it would be extinguished in a similar manner, and for that, she hoped that Barkuub and her could finally rest easily.

She never expected to achieve so much, and some how become something that could be called being a hero in the end.

And finally, she welcomed and embraced that her tumultuous life was now drawing to a halt.

It had escaped my mind that the extend of pain one would endure before finally dying in a black hole was debatable, considering that even to all the advanced alien races out there, no one really had a concrete answer to what happened when you went through one.

Whispers and legends, passed from one traveller to another orally, floated across the galaxy, some of gruesome hell realms, others of alternate dimensions. Occasionally you would meet a wacko claiming to have survived passing through one, but despite all the many theories, they were just _that_, with no ounce of fact to them. Some scientists were poking at the idea that different things happened to you depending on the black hole, but again, to the wider public the answer was 'who knows?'.

If I had considered it before hand, I would've probably gone with fading and choking on the utter darkness and void of the pupil of the black hole, leaving the cocoons of a conscious body with cloudiness similar to that of drowning. Having faced foes who favoured the art of ringing my neck or holding me underwater (though often it was some other planetary liquid equivalent that did the same job), I would have most likely gulped, rubbed my neck with a grimace and then proceed to spend a few more minutes re-talking myself into the idea of saving everyone in the nearby Sectors by sailing into the previously mentioned sure death named Gate Stopper.

I was sorely mistaken.

The main torture would be the lack of a concept of time. There was no way to measure how long each technique of anguish lasted, where they overlapped and melded together, which in itself produced a pure chill of sheer terror I had never experienced. _Fuck_, it was the sort that paralysed you one moment, then would send you into waves and waves of fits that merged together, to drive you into madness. Every sense I had, touch, hearing, sight, the lot were gone, only pain and the ramblings of my own mind left. Begging. Bargaining and praying to every deity I could think of, even if I still believed that all of them were non-existent.

A thousand life times past.

Memories swooped through me, blinding me with the ferocity of how fresh each one was. I relived my years again and again as it were the first time again, at the exact same pace. All the while, the excruciating pain lay like the parasite within me, sharing my very being. I found myself wishing that at least couldn't it be in sharp throbs instead of a constant flow, so that I would have a millisecond of relief to rest my hope upon. I lost my sanity, only to realise that there was always a little left to lose the next moment.

Some how I was aware that I no longer was one with my body, despite not having felt it since entering the eye of the Gate Stopper. The memories now stopped at the moment I wished they would be there so that I could feed upon my desire to go back, regret and delusions fuelling me.

If some one had told me to commit the worst crimes possible in exchange for stopping it all, I would have shamefully accepted without a doubt. What self-empowerment I had was gone and spat upon.

And then, like the specific point when one falls asleep, it stopped, and my body and I became one again. All senses back, I rubbed my arms as if it were giving me sensual pleasure at just knowing that they were _mine _again and wept as if I hadn't just been doing that for however long the torture had lasted. I even welcomed the soreness of my lost voice from all the screaming I had committed and yet not heard.

The beginning of the torture felt like it had been only seconds ago now, when in its process had felt endless.

And that's when the rich pigmented blurs of my vision sharpened in an instant, revealing what my fate was; everywhere, all that surrounded me were walls with no corners, indicating I was inside some sort of orb. They were a dark steely grey that were carved to a perfection that could never possibly be imagined without already being in ones own memory.

Bursts of lights of all shades assaulted my vision like overcharged LEDs. A case of tunnel vision and a throbbing in my head numbed me from really caring that there was no gravity whatsoever, and that I was in fact floating in the exact centre of the orb, rotated 360 degrees in all directions.

Shadows masked some areas for seconds, before fading into a glowing translucent film that revealed the familiar beauty of space outside.

And then two figures of humanoid metal appeared before me, the one to the left causing the walls to become see through with the intensity of the gold light that blasted out of him, while the other was cloaked in the shadows that he birthed.

The former was a mass of connecting and interlocking blue and white armour, with accents of gold that glowed and ran into the rest of the light emanating out of him. The darker one was of the same muscled build and structure, though stake like spikes grew from every large enough surface he possessed. This one was black, with rivers of red and slivers of gold seeping into the designs.

While one emitted an aura of purity and hope, sending me references of everything I viewed positively, the other was despair incarnate, suffocating me even with the idea that he would walk any closer.

Both were enormous, so much so that I couldn't look at either of them completely. Both were also covered in glowing runes and stood before me, a pair of blue and a pair of red lights that acted as their eyes watching me as if I was the most interesting thing that they had ever viewed.

On the precipices of my peripheral vision, glyphs of some ancient, unknown language flashed and danced through the air, serving to evaporate if I tried to focus on them.

And then they spoke. Two endless, rumbling voices that spoke my name in unison as I stood there dazed in awe and suddenly falling to my knees on an invisible floor that accompanied the return of gravity.

For the longest time, I revelled in just looking at them as they looked back. Even if the insolence of not praising them and making eye contact would serve to be my end, I just could not care enough to stop. I would happily die again just to keep this moment with me, I thought with a reverence I hadn't previously possessed.

The shadowed metal titan suddenly exhaled a long growl that shuddered in some condescending laugh, laced with derision. It made me want to curl up with frustrated horror and embarrassment.

However my frenzied thoughts suddenly halted from their negative turn as his purer counterpart spoke in a voice that halted the air in my throat.

"You are not dead, child."

I was rattled with confusion, and mouthed his words to myself. _Not _dead? If that endless torture of the black hole wouldn't kill me, did that mean I would have to go through it all again? I wetted my lips and pleaded him with my eyes. "What am I then?"

He hummed in thought, though it was the shadowed one that answered in a deeper, malicious voice that affected me in the same way, but for different reasons. "Passing through the void, as it were."

"Death will not meet you for a while yet, little one."

I furrowed my brows, sorting out my screaming thoughts, not fully noticing that they could hear every one of them as if I had spoken them out loud. "Wait…who are you?! And why am I here then? Why haven't I…you know…."

The gold one stepped forward with a serene smile. "To our people, I am known as Primus, the creator of our kind."

"And _I," _the darker one interjected with a twisted version of the same smile, "am Unicron, the destroyer of _all_."

"My twin and I have been in an endless battle, one that is infinite between good and evil-"

"-Weak and powerful-"

"-Purity and corruption." Primus finished with an ageless sorrow. "Upon the race that carries our blood, a great war ravages all, destroying their home planet Cybertron. This race, the Cybertronians, have been fighting for countless light-years, the peace they once lived in long forgotten. However, a possible end is now in sight."

Unicron snarled, the noise echoing around and making me fall back on to my elbows. I screamed and crawled away as he suddenly bent down, his face inches from mine and pinned me down with two dagger like fingers. Black fogs permeated the air and I started to feel light headed, any positive feelings seeming to get sucked out of me. "I _desire_ the constant flow of spilling energon, to feed on the offlining sparks that the Great War has offered. Yet if it does not eventually produce a victor, every _single_ Cybertronian will be dead, _extinct_. And what would be the point, with no more sparks to extinguish. Now little one, can you _tell_ me?"

I tried to curl up on myself, causing Unicron to shake with sadistic laughter again, before all of a sudden, he was gone and I was being lifted in Primus's palm, in between the twin deities. "Atalanta." They both said together, their voices merged in harmony.

"While Unicron desires the end of the war so as to prolong the suffering of our race in a more …_natural_ occurrence, I would like it to bring peace to the Cybertronians once more. We have been fighting since the dawn of consciousness, maintaining the balance of our existence, and yet here we are before you, _united_ in our desires." Primus said.

I pressed my palms into his own, my fingers lost in a large gap in his armour. When I look up at his burning blue eyes, my mind seems to clear, and suddenly all my instinctual spirit returns to me. "Like yin and yang?" I'm mortified when both of them pause, before whirring in amusement, though Unicron's was darker and foreboding.

"Yes. Exact opposites that form a whole. Every being under our reign is filled with the both of us, though one is usually stronger than the other." Primus confirms.

"Usually, an organic would not be of importance to us, especially of as weak a species as yours."

"Yet we have spoken with the ruling power of your people, to gain you in an exchange. You are to become one with us, as all our other child are. Your ties with your kind have always been weak, and you comprehend many things that exceeds their minds."

"It was agreed that you would be whole as one of the Cybertronians, than a whisper of a human. Your…_heroic _ending has come to serve as a gateway to your new beginning."

After gaping like a fish again, I answered. "S-so…wait, let me just clarify." They both looked amused yet again, but humoured me. "You're both ruling gods over a race that I'm guessing are mechanical beings like yourself, and want an end to a really long war they've been having. And…you've bargained with the god that looks after _my…_the human race so that you can-"

"Cease your ramblings, organic!" Unicron roared, pulling another scream from me. I was cupped from view by Primus's other hand as I heard them angrily converse in a buzzing, machine like language of whirls and clicks, rumbles and wisps of venting air. Eventually, silence reigned again, and Primus's second hand left so that I could see again. The red glow from Unicron was pulsing angrily, though he was a lot calmer now.

Primus cupped me slightly in his palm so that I would look up at him. Once I had, he motioned for me to continue. I did so, my voice echoing loudly. "So does every race have an assigned deity? Which one's the human one?"

He shook his head; "We all have our realms and limits to our power, yes. Though I am afraid that you cannot know any more. The works of higher beings are not to be known by mortals. We are there to maintain the balance, not to reveal the secrets of the cosmos."

Suddenly irritation flashed through me. "Because I cannot _comprehend_ it?"

Unicron answers for me. "Yes."

The bluntness of his answer seems to catch the question "why?" from me, even though I still desperately want to answer it. Instead, I turn myself back to Primus, who speaks again.

"You no longer are under the human deity, that is all that matters now. Your passing through the black hole has let you arrive in our plane, where the Cybertronians exist, unlike your own."

"Like another dimension."

"More or less." His eyes twinkle with soft humour at my huff as I cross my arms. "You shall inhabit a new life and a new body. We have chosen you to change the outcome of this war, though how, will depend on your actions."

"You are the Shaper, the one who will the mould the path the Cybertronian race shall follow." Unicron finished.

I mulled over the information they had thrown at me. To be given the power to change a _war? _What, was I going to get a magic sword or something?

Unicron chuckled darkly, as I remembered that they could hear all that passed through my brain. "The only thing you will rely upon is yourself, Shaper. _Unfortunately, _we cannot take away your free will. Nor that of the vermin that resides in you."

A chill grips me. The Xeno that I was impregnated with is still there?

Primus quickly stepped in, scowling at Unicron who looked delighted to have freaked me out yet again. "Little one, the organic inside of you has gone without spark for too long; it was weaker than you, in both mind and its underdeveloped body. The Xenomorphs are of one mind, linked to that of a Queen, who holds telepathic rule over her hive. Its spark was already weak for its lack of a individual personality." He sighed, indicating the telling of news that I would most likely not be happy about. "However, when passing through to this plane, what was left of its energy merged with yours."

Horror gripped me; after everything the monster has done, it's fucking followed me? Piggy backing in my body? Would I have a split personality? Would I start laying eggs ohshitohshitoh-

"SILENCE!" Unicron roared, "Enough of your useless rabbling! They're giving my processor a headache!"

"Calm down, Atalanta." Primus murmured, "The Xenomorph's consciousness is long gone. What is left of its spark, its very _being_ is merely the energy that acted as it's coding. Your mind is the only one within you."

I let out relieved sigh. While I didn't understand some of the words they used, I could understand that it was still just me, with no Mr Hyde. "What do you mean by spark, and coding? Oh, and what's a processor?"

Unicron rolls his eyes with mockery, landing them on Primus in a way that said 'I'm not handling this one'. Primus didn't show any indication of resentment, and continued on with what I assumed was ever lasting patience. Hell, if anyone possessed that, this guy, errr…_god _would.

"The easiest way would be to compare to what you can relate to. A spark is similar to a heart; however it is also our very being, housing our emotions and personality. It is directly connected to our main processor, or our brain. For Cybertronians, the merging of two sparks can form a spark bond, and also a new spark can be created, similar to that of a baby, though we call it sparkling. Here the coding of the two creators, similar to that of DNA, combines for the sparkling's coding. The All Spark was another way of creating new life, however…"

Unicron gave a sickening smile, interrupting again. "Primus's little present to the Cybertronians is damaged and was shattered in this war. It is practically useless now."

I looked back at Primus for confirmation, who nodded his head. He had the face of one who was remembering the loss of a dear friend. "Another result of war. Yet the Matrix of Leadership remains whole. It is the sibling of the All Spark, it's purpose to reveal the new Prime when one is called for. The twelve original Primes were the first Cybertronians the All Spark created. The living Optimus Prime is leader of the Autobots and current holder of the Matrix of Leadership."

And so Primus continued on in what was a lengthy yet engaging retelling of all there was to the Great War, with Unicron throwing in his evil input here and there. He seemed especially triumphant when the corruption of the Fallen was mentioned, and how he mentored Megatron. But it was short lived as Primus went onto describe the war's events on dear old Earth, including how Megatron's Decepticons had been beaten twice by the Autobots (with numbers against the latter) with the help of humans. The death of the Fallen by Optimus Prime's hand after he was revived seemed to sting Unicron badly.

So much information was given; it felt like they were telling me a bedtime story. Yet I knew it was all too real. And soon, Primus fell into silence, as Unicron said in his deep drumming voice, "It is time. She knows all she needs to."

Primus hummed in agreement, before setting me down where I had been before. They both walked back a little, inviting me to ask anything else. "Wait!" I cried, "You said that the Xenomorph would effect my coding- as in I'll be a robot Xeno?"

"_Femme_ or _mech_, little one. Robot suggests we are not sentient. Your blend of coding will result in a unique frame, yes, though your own natural coding is still dominant."

That was comforting at least, I thought. But one last thing still weighed heavily on my mind. I still need to spit it out, to face my future with one last thing set straight. I looked up at both of them, fighting the urge to break eye contact and give up my ground as I squared my shoulders with confidence I hadn't felt since I started my last mission with Barkuub.

"I'm not sure you would give me a choice in the matter, but either way, I accept. You said that I would affect the outcome of the Cybertronians. You're right, I never felt connected to humanity, so I think I'll be happy being part of your creation's race." I paused, licking my lips, before starting again with resolve in my voice. "But I want to keep my memories. They are what makes me who I _am_. I've been through shit and I've seen things that I want to remember for the rest of my new life. I understand that both of you want me to affect the war in different ways. If you dropped me off as a blank slate, you would fight to change me for your advantage, and that's a _violation_ of my own free will. That's all I ask. To be exactly as I am now, in my soul- no _spark, _just with a new shiny metal shell as my body. I want to be _me_. Not some parallel knock off, you understand?"

They both paused, looking very surprised, and shared a long look with each other. This in itself was chilling, and made me think that they were planning to do just what I was demanding they didn't do. Finally, Primus looked back at with a beautiful, literally glowing smile. "We accept, little one. End this war, and we will meet again when all are one." The translucent walls around him hardened back to their slate grey metal as he disappeared in tandem.

And then it was just Unicron and I. I started to panic a bit at the deep glare he sent my way, before he barked a laugh so strong it made me fall over yet again. However this time the invisible floor was gone, and I was back to floating with a lack of gravity in the centre of the orb. The shadows surrounding Unicron dance across the air as he answers.

"You certainly do not belong in the world of humanity; ferocity will be your _weapon_, and your will your _shield_, Shaper. It will be interesting to follow your time as a Cybertronian."

And then he too was gone, taking away his shadows as if they were being sucked in by a plughole. The glyphs that had been prancing the entire time grew in fierceness, becoming more daring as they ventured from the corners of my eyes to everywhere at once, numerous flashes of coloured lights, whirling together. I'm blinded by their spectrums merging together in the uniting blend of sheer whiteness, and then, I know now more.

**Sooooo, that's the idea for a transformer's fic I had rattling in my brain. The protagonist has been in various scenarios for TF stories I've been have, and it was driving me crazy. The cover photo for this story is what her Cybertronian form will look like, but if you don't want to know just yet, don't worry, in the next update she will be a Cyber. **

**Please tell me whatcha think!**

**Thank you,**

**Renzin xo**


	2. Chapter 2

Alien By Perspective

"If you think this Universe is bad, you should see some of the others." – Phillip K. Dick

Chapter 2

Light peeled away the darkness as consciousness claimed me again. It tightened its hold in pulses, each flash accompanied with a blast of burning pain and a jolt of impact, skipping along in my landing. Like a scratchy DVD, this continued for several bumps, until whatever cocoon I was in seemed to drag along the ground longer each time, and soon the erratic rolling of the pod slowed into a grinding landing.

I moaned, tensing and relaxing all my muscle groups until I was satisfied that I could move out of the tight foetal position that I was in. My eyes blinked furiously with a tiny '_ting' _sound each time; my vision sharpened to my relief, only true to Primus and Unicron's word, new computerized, angrily bright messages popped onto my HUD screen. They were colour coded in a pattern I couldn't recognise yet, with entwined, jaggered lines that must have been the glyphs that made up the Cybertronian script. To my relief, I could easily understand them, and I was soon immersed in exploring the interactive world on my screen. English seemed to be 'downloaded' as well, and the various languages that I had come across in my life were as well, though they had numeral bars such as '23%' next to them, respective of how much of the language I knew.

I drew my attention to the error messages that kept reopening themselves, even after I had minimised them. One of them strongly advised that I performed a 'systems check', so I accepted and was swiftly bombarded by more statistics.

**Systems check…connecting…completed.**

**HUD: online.**

**Memory core: intact.**

**Self repair: online.**

**Hydraulics: online.**

**Running stability check…completed. Operational.**

**Spark coding initialized…completed.**

**Communications: online.**

**Transformation Cog: operational.**

**Cooling systems: online. Maximum capacity **

**Sensors: scanning area…scanning…scanning…completed. **

**Location: Earth, organic based planet. **

**Self defence protocols: initialised. **

**Weapons system: operational.**

**Feral mode: offline.**

**Exterior shell: mesh wounds.**

**Medical check up advised. **

**Energon levels: depleted. 63%**

**Analysing function files…**

**Designation: Atalanta**

**Would you like to change your designation? **

**Yes/No**

**No.**

**Affiliation: Neutral.**

**Function: To be determined. **

**Alternative mode: Grounder. To be determined. **

Everything seemed…normal wasn't the right word, since _none _of this was familiar to me. However I didn't feel the twinge of great remorse for my lost humanity; I was too excited, because all this new information _proved _that I was in fact a non-organic sentient robot! A Cybertronian!

Sure was a big leap from a 6-foot bounty hunter.

**Eject from space pod? **

**Yes/No**

**Yes. **

The pod I was in didn't leave me any room to move; various tubes and casings that were attached to my frame immediately detached with loud hisses of air, followed by the grunting of gears within the spherical walls. The geometrical carvings were similar to the orb I had been floating in the void, however these were far less complicated, more like tiny seams in the metal. A gasp of these seams opening let the pressurized air escape as I drew in as deep a breath I could into my tanks, despite the fact that I didn't need to. It was trilling to hear and feel it whooshing through my systems, as the punchy scents of pine trees, recently drenched soil and the pang of minty shrubbery hit me. I couldn't have ever comprehended the individual particles of each odour as I could with my human nose; did all Cybertronians have such enhanced senses?

My hearing was sharpened as well; while not unbearably loud, my audio processors were constantly whirring and rotating on their axels upon my head, 'zooming' in on each sound and almost instantly categorizing it. It was phenomenal, liberating even. I felt like laughing at the sheer awe I was in.

I instinctually crawled out of the pod as soon as the exit had finished opening to take in the sight of the crowd of trees I had landed in. They were spacious in between them, and the sound of a road could be heard up ahead. I vaguely remembered Earth motorways to reside on the ground, made of concrete or tarmac, and to be painted with yellow and white signs. In space settlements, especially the ports, many materials and designs were used, depending on the largest culture in the Sector. I just hoped that the traffic and driving wasn't as bad as it was there!

I felt childish wonder and giddiness overcome me. Despite never wanting to return to this planet, I could admit that it was extremely exciting, especially as I could now explore it as an _alien _myself. What had changed? As far as I knew, humans hadn't discovered the existence of aliens yet, but then again that was in my old dimension, there was a chance that adding Cybertronians to the mix would've changed that. Could human governments be successful in covering up an alien war that had come to their planet? Were they even aware?

My enhanced senses quickly relayed to me that there were no organisms larger than rodents in the area, however my eyes were heavily squinting. If this was the effect of the Xeno's coding, them perhaps I would be more comfortable in darker environments. In my HUD screen, I managed to adjust my 'optics' to a dimmer setting, yet they were still powerful enough to sharpen the difference between molecules of dust. With a bit of playing around, I found that to me amusement, like a console I could zoom in and out as well.

I took in another deep vent that I didn't need, purely for the comfort of habit and the tingling feeling as it cleared my insides. I rocked back onto the balls of my feet, hands splayed out in front of me. I focused in their every detail, and they were truly intricate. The main plating was a gun grey metal, ominous and separate into many sections so that when I twisted my wrists and wriggled my mechanical fingers, the only difference I could notice form my old ones were to slight murmuring of grinding metal within me and the gritty earth that fell into the cracks to my protoform. Various clusters of wires, insulated circuit boards and more flexible, muscle like strips of metal that joined each and every plate together could be seen through the miniscule gaps. Upon my knuckles were bronze oval plates, and below them elongated, triangular grooves followed the ridges of the tendons on my hand. Smaller, proportional triangles lines them, though these seemed to be made of a see through cover that show the glowing blue light from beneath.

The fingers themselves ended in thick claws, which could be retracted into the grippable pads of my fingers. They seemed tough, not extremely long but deadly sharp.

At the wrists, the plating opened up to connect to the gauntlet like armour on my lower arms. To my fascination, they resembled the exoskeleton of a Xenomorph, thick ridges and spikes at the end to cover my elbows. My upper arms lacked the ornamentation to favour the more angular armour that I would expect for a Cybertronian.

I pushed myself swiftly into a standing position, yelping a little before I regained my balance. Everything was so small! My helm reached the top of some of the smaller trees. How tall were pines again? Instinctually, my processor started scanning my data files, before returning to tell me that I didn't know. An option to connect to the World Wide Web popped up, and I accepted. Being on the human Internet was a new thing for me; luckily, many cultures that relied on technology had similar databases for general knowledge. Though after skimming through all the search results on this 'Google' browser, I noticed that a lot came from civilian, opinioned posts and debates, not official government data files like I was used to. I made a mental note to explore the internet later, after discovering that smaller pine trees were usually around 20 feet. I estimated that I was a little over that, my posture strong and tall.

Walking was a little unnerving; the organic matter felt a lot different, the dirt and twigs sliding below my stabilizing pedes a constant. My walk was swifter and surprising stealthy, another trait I attributed to my Xeno coding.

Like an athlete warming up for a sprint, I stretched my new limbs this way and that, occasionally running a few steps or jumping as high as I could, landing with a grace a had never possessed before. During this, it came to my attention that my increased balance was due to an extra limb on my back; my tail was almost identical to that of a Xenomorphs, but for the green under plating below the grey exoskeleton. It ended in a deadly point, mimicking the curve of my claws, along with jaggered spikes like the ones on my arms. It flicked around me, constantly suspended. It was long and flexible, and already I could pick up on how my movement and emotion affected it.

On further inspection, rib like armour covered where my human ribs once were, running down to connect with my flat abdominal plating and the humming vents on my waist. I shuddered as I ran my hands over them; they were sensitive, and made a delicious twinkling sound against my claws. Where my breasts once were, plates of a slightly darker alloy followed the curves and fit into the seams on the dark protoform and exposed wiring around my chassis. The same pattern covered my posterior's curves, ending in jaggered lines that matched the armour on my legs. My stabilizing pedes were like that of a thin shoe, however the cables and pumps in my legs could arch into a more feline shape, bow legged and fit for moving on four limbs.

My shoulders were lethal looking, a spiral of sharp metal circling a flatter plane in the centre. Various glowing tubes ran the inside, the protrusions large yet not blocking my peripheral vision.

Curiosity got the better of me on how my face looked. I knew I had a robotic version of hair, as I could ruffle it in my servos and hold it out to examine. It seemed as long as my old hair, a faded, rusting auburn shade that fell in long wild curls. I was happy of that at least. While I had constantly had it in a braid before, I had always liked my hair. As if on queue, a curved rod following the shape of my skull shot out from the base of my neck, gathering the synthetic fine wires in one shift movement and clasping the entire bunch into a high pony tail. I jumped at the suddenness of it, and couldn't help but giggle as I felt the mechanical version of a hairband lock into place and flatten into hiding.

I sprinted the short distance back to the space pod in my eagerness, and in its shiny reflection, I saw my new face for the very first time. It was surreal to say the least.

Like my abdomen, my face was covered in a light grey layer of smooth plating, which made me wonder if Cybertronians even had acne; they must have puberty, right? All my facial features were proportional to what they had been in the flesh; a firm nose with signs of perhaps some Asian heritage, almond shaped eyes and dark, symmetrical brows. My lips were still full and voluptuous, but now in a strikingly dark shade that seemed to be black with flecks of browns and greys. My eyes were somewhat nostalgic; blue, the same almost glassy shade, but rimmed with miniscule gold plating and small purple lights around the rim. What once were the whites of my eyes were simply more ivory plating that disappeared into the corners of my lids. The valves and vents that made up my neck seemed to interconnect and smooth out to form the sharp precipices of a facial mask. A matching headband sat like a low tiara as my chevron, with a few ringlets of my wired hair falling over them. The sharp points of my audio fins stood perpendicular to where my ears once were, always whirring and rotating vertically, relaying information back to my audio processors.

Every single inch of my body was covered in Cybertronian glyphs, most of them in the language of the ancients. They seemed to say things about me, like 'warrior class' and 'hunter', though were embarrassingly honest, such as 'stubborn' and 'fire tongue'. Both Unicron and Primus had left their marks on me, as well as 'shaper', 'unity', and the foreboding 'end'. It seemed they were pretty serious about me doing my part in their, now _my _war.

For all the illegal acts I've done, I wouldn't consider myself 'evil'. I never enjoyed killing for no reason, and that was only if they were trying to kill me. Every time I got stuck in the centre of battles, I always sided with the ones trying to _save_ the community or whatever, so it was natural that my first course of action would be to decide to join the Autobots, because from what I've heard from that little history lesson with P and U, while the Cons started off fighting for equality, they were far too corrupt, and had been for a long time. The Autobots just seemed to want peace, and while I didn't particularly like being associated with _humans _(I know, the irony), I could begrudgingly accept that I was wrong to fight for the side that wanted to pulverise them.

Oh the woes of racism.

The question would be where to find them; the twin deities had mentioned that the human who originally helped them, Samuel Witwicky, had lived with his family in Tranquillity, Nevada when it all started on Earth; however when the Autobots contacted him to act as a sort of liaison, which he declined before the fiasco in Egypt, he had just started University. Where of course, was a mystery to me; it seemed irrelevant at the time to even mention that he _went _university, let alone where. I knew that NEST had now been formed, but again, the means to contact them was unknown to me.

After a frustrated moment of plotting, I decided that my best (albeit weakest) lead would be to go to Tranquillity and find out if he still lived there, or if his family did. Thankfully, the telling of this saga like war had informed me that the humans called the Cybertronians 'transformers' due to our ability to adapt our alt modes and blend in by scanning and reformatting them to mimic earth vehicles. I couldn't help my giddy excitement; I had vague memories and had seen images of human vehicles; though mainly cars on the freeway, and the large cruise ship that I had been washed off all those years ago.

I accessed my HUD screen again, scrolling through the menus until I came to the data file under 'alternate mode'.

**Initiate transformation sequence?**

**Yes/No**

**Yes.**

A girlish squeal escaped me as my metal body instantly responded to the command; warming up and buzzing as I felt the seams of my plating spin and replace themselves. My centre of gravity was suddenly thrown off, and I rolled forward a little in my new horizontal structure. I was bulky and long; two wheels at both ends, and my exoskeleton had shifted to morph me into a bullet sort of shape, with my optics at the front. Primus, it was freaking cool! I brought up the blue prints of myself as I spun in circles around the area, large clouds of uprooted dirt in my midst.

I was a little upset that I would have to blend in as a human vehicle; this one was so beautiful! It was low on the ground, like a motorcycle, which gave me the clue to look for something of a similar size; according to my data files, the process of transformation was made possible due to the inventions of the T-cog and subspaces.

The process of researching the Internet was a little bizarre; I wasn't used to all the adverts that popped up everywhere, demanding that I buy numerous useless products that I could only guess about. What even was an iPhone? After being side tracked enough to find out, I started wondering why I would need to shoot at interactive bulls eyes to win one. It was starting to dawn on me how much I had missed since I was last here.

Eventually, I found a motorbike that I could approve of; the Cooks Custom Rambler was a design masterpiece and quite frankly I was shocked that humans could make such an impressive transport. It was low and long like my current alt mode, however when I tried to download and scan the schematics, an error message jumped up to inform me that I was too large for transform into it. With a huff and a growl, I continued the search.

The vastness of this Internet was starting to frustrate me. I was getting ready to say 'screw it' and risk all the exposure, when I came across a piece of machine work that made my vents hiss in surprise.

In a rushed flurry, I bought up the designs and scanned them, almost shouting in relief when they were accepted and I felt my plates warm up again as they morphed. Automatically, a female holoform appeared in my seat, completely covered in black and face hidden from view in her helmet. After I had finished, I preened for a while, brought up a route and map to take to Nevada, which I was about a day away from, and sped down to the nearest road as an 'innocent' Triumph Rocket III Roadster, albeit an extremely customised one.

The metal was gun grey like my armour, and my hair had wrapped around the handles and flattened, so that I looked like a thick layer of red paint. My exoskeleton and tail wrapped over and around the body, the seat emerging form my back, while my arms and legs wrapped around the wheels. My tail curved around the exhaust pipes and back, so that I looked like a running Xeno with wheels. Safe to say, my resentment towards the Xenos was dwindling, considering how badass I felt.

**Here you go, the crash landing! She's finally 'home', as it were, and looking rather swanky as a femme! If any were wondering about he new alt mode, it's a mix between the Triumph and an custom bike I saw that someone had made on the internet, which you can find if you google 'alien motorbike' or 'xeno motorbike'; its basically a normal bike, but the body is designed to look like a xeno. Atalanta in my mind looks like a cross between the two, however without the giant xeno cranium. **

**A little more on her height; according to Bay, the original team of Bots were this tall:**

**Jazz : 13 feet tall**

**Bumblebee: 17 feet tall**

**Ratchet: 24 feet tall**

**Iron Hide: 26 feet tall**

**Optimus Prime: 28 feet tall**

**Megatron: 34 feet tall**

**So Atalanta is roughly 20-21 feet, making her in between Ratchet the hatchet and Bumblebee. In the movie-verse, the other femmes all transformed into bikes like Atalanta, however they were a lot smaller bikes and in bipedal mode were tinchy compared to the mechs. I thought with my OC's tougher character, it suited her to be unusually tall, especially since she was taller than average as a human, and so much of her new body resembles her own. As you guys have probably noticed, she's a lot more humanoid than the natural Cybertronians, especially with her 'hair', as its flexible. **

**Anyway, thank you for reading, please review, and of course, I only own my OCs, the transformers stuff belongs to Hasbro, Bay blah blah blah…**

**Bye! **

**Renzin xo**


	3. Chapter 3

Alien By Perspective

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race" – H.G Wells

Chapter 3

The journey to Tranquillity was tiring to me; it had taken 17 hours, with only one stop at a refuel station that smelt heavily of watered down gas, peeling paint and piss. Apparently, normal gas isn't too good for my engines. I was clumsy enough trying to make my holoform pump some into me, and then I had to deal with the clumping slush that was giving me what I guess was the Cybertronian equivalent of indigestion. While my energon readings had lowered, it seems that I can convert this more primitive form of fuel to energy, with some nasty side effects. I hoped that I would find the Autobots soon, so that I could consume what I was built for, and not suffer from something so miserly.

It was actually a really nice ride after entering Nevada, which was all desert dust and acrid coloured skies. Soon the roads became busier when I passed into the highway by Mission City, but after another hour or so, I started to pass into the suburban towns. Tranquillity was easily the nicest. The residents had made a valiant effort of planting hundreds of trees, and there was naturally more vegetation as well. Most of the houses were idealistic looking, with wooden arched doorways and emerald green lawns. The town centre itself drew my attention; I hadn't really spent much time in domesticated communities, and the open doored coffee shops, fountains and parks were so simplistically lovely.

Quite frankly, I blame me being at peace here on growing old.

Facebook yielded me more information on Samuel Witwicky. 19 years old, in his final year of college at Princeton University; however, being that it was half way through the summer holiday, my best bet would that he would be at home with Judy and Ron Witwicky, married for 23 years. He was a tanned, dark haired boy with matching brown eyes that gazed back at you in my profile picture; an equally tanned girl with a large smile had her arms around her face as her black bangs fell slightly into his face. This, I assumed was the girl he was dating, named Mikaela Banes. They had been together for a few years, so I knew it was possible that she knew all about the Autobots as well; if the Witwickys held no answers, then the auto shop her family owned in the same town would be my next stop.

I felt the urge to walk around people for a moment, to get accustomed to this body before trying to interact with my _targets_. Déjà vu was creeping up on me; I remembered the smells of pastries, the grinding of walking on pavements, however my view as an infant was significantly lower. Along the long drive that had me wanting to shoot at every granny driver on the road, but I also gave me time to think. Various trivia bounced around my brain, as well as the time to mess about with my holoform and other functions.

Ironically, once I viewed under the helmet, I noticed that the holoform was an exact replica of my old body. It was…I couldn't really grasp the freakishness of it to be honest. It was comforting, and unnerving. In a way, becoming a Cybertronian had given me the best of both worlds. Even if I hadn't particularly cared whether I was human or not, I _had _just spent my entire life being one. As a matter of fact, the familiarity was nice, thank you very much.

Rather than keep the automated black, full body biker suit that my holoform had been in before, I decided I might as well revert back to what I usually wore, with some adjustments that didn't shout 'off-planetary'. My 'work' suit was essentially a get up of dark green, almost black leather and fabric like armour, extremely flexible and breathable. A soft fabric hood hangs around a thin visor that's moulded into my brow and nose bridge structure. The gloves are fingerless and rough from long usage, as well as a burnt red colour and frayed. A thick belt holds up the skin hugging leggings, clamped down and bulky in all its pocketed glory. My top is like that of a thermal, the light plating fitting around my chest so that the waist isn't restricted. The boots are worn and dog-eared, nothing special about them but for the gravity compressors underneath the rubbery soles. They could pass for combat boots. I don't modify much; the visor like glasses are pushed into my hair and the hood is down; for the hell of it, I add a red liner around the seems of my suit, and add steel caps on my toes, knees, elbows and knuckles. I've always wanted steel-toed boots.

It was calming in the town centre; laughter, snippets of conversation, proving that I was truly on _Earth. _I sat on a street bench, whose handles had a row of pansies planted in. They were soft, like most other native flowers I had touched.

After a while, I walked into a local café, where most customers were clutching books and crème lattes, a few BLTs in sight as well.

A lanky teen asked what I wanted, his fashionably dyed silver hair glinting in the light.

"Um, coffee?"

He paused at pressing button on the cashier screen, to give me a dubious look. "You got a preference…?"

Great, cover cracking already. _Good job 'Lanta, real smooth_. I desperately looked around, and spotted a customer retrieve a large cup that held a black liquid with wisps of frothing gold swirl around the top in abandon. My tongue tingled its approval. "Whatever that is, I'll have."

"Okay…A large black with a shot of ginger." He gave a lopsided smile, showing that my helplessness was apparently cute to him. After tapping at the screen a little more, he said, "Do you want that to go?"

At least I knew what _that _meant. "Yeah. Please."

"That'll be…$3.50 please."

_God_ I felt like an idiot, especially since the idiot serving me found it so funny. After making a show of pulling out my wallet, I pulled out my holoform money and handed it to him. I felt no guilt that it would disappear when my holoform did.

_Rogue ex-bounty hunter, remember?_

Grumbling, I walked out of the café and made my way back to my bench. I tentatively brought the drink to my lips, pausing to deeply inhale the blend. God, it was heaven! So thick, rich and dark! I groaned audibly when I drank it. Who the hell knew humans could make something so _gooood! _

A few passer-bys looked at me oddly as I practically inhaled the drink, a Cheshire grin hanging from my face. Holy shit, I really wanted more. I even started walking back to the café, but then stopped myself and sighed. As much as I wanted to spend the entire day exploring, I needed to find the Witwickys, and ultimately, the Autobots. A rush of excitement hit me; I was going to meet the Cybertronians, my _kin. _That was all I needed to convince me to turn around and walk my holoform back to my true frame. With a colossal snarl from my engine, a ripped away from the curb and follow the route to the Witwicky's residence, internally smirking with pride at the gasps and squeals that came from onlookers.

As she turned into the street, her scanners relayed a message to Atalanta, telling her that a Cybertronian signature was close by. Her engine revved with anticipation. This was it; she was going to meet one! Suddenly, Atalanta felt a wave of nerves wash over her; if she could detect the Cybertronian, then they most certainly could detect her. Should she park outside and wait for them introduce themselves? She grimaced at that idea; most likely, they would consider her a hostile; she would need to be cautious to show her passiveness quickly, just in case they were trigger-happy.

She noted that this area was filled with wealthier houses, the effort of maintenance noticeable, as well as the competitive nature of neighbouring gardens. The Witwicky's residence was slightly out of view because the drive way led you behind a large gathering of evergreen trees, surrounding the property. The house itself was constructed of dark wood and grey brick, with a well-kept expanse of grass and a porch. There was also a balcony and various colourful creepers growing around it, as well as delicate ornaments distributed across the garden. Atalanta tuned in her audios, noting that someone was inside the house. The Cybertronian signature originated in an extension of the house that was only one floor high, with two large wooden doors holding it closed.

Tentatively, Atalanta rolled to the end of the driveway, stopping 3 metres away from the garage door. Somehow, even if you didn't factor in logic, she _knew _that the bot inside was aware of her proximity. Like a cowboy standoff, each waited tensely for the next move.

_Oh fuck this! _

Atalanta growled with impatience, and as loud as she could, revved her engine like a snarling beast. The explosion of air from her vents rattled the stones on the concrete, and the nearby potted plants bent away with the air. She let her engine run as she waited for her reply. Finally, after a pregnant pause, a smoother, but still powerful rev answered her from the confines of the garage.

Then suddenly, her HUD screen flashed as her communications channel opened, her COM link receiving its first message from an unknown frequency.

**: A neutral, huh? **

Atalanta sagged with relief that she hadn't been attacked full out yet. Knowing of the two fractions, she could easily guess what neutral meant.

**: You betcha'. My names' Atalanta, and I'm looking for the Autobots. Think you can help me out?**

The same light and cheery vocals replied instantly, the loud chirping on the other side of the door revealing his excitement.

**: I think so. My designation is Bumblebee, Autobot scout. **

**: Do you mind if I open the door? **

A pause followed her message, before Bumblebee replied in a slightly suspicious tone.

**: I got it. Step back. **

To my surprise, instead of activating his holoform, the door was unlocked and pushed open by a black and sunny yellow hand, the mech it was attached to in the centre of the room. His entire bodywork was a blend of these two colours, with the silver and grey protoform underneath peaking through. His helm was covered by a yellow helmet with a thick, dipping chevron and a symmetrical chin cap that covered where his mouth would be. A cross hatching of gratings over a circular speaker was placed where his mouth would be. His chassis armour was made up of the front of the car he transformed into. While a pair of wheels acted as extra shoulder blade protection, other made up the heel of his feet. Thinner thighs and upper arms were covered in a lighter black plating, as well as his waist.

Atalanta transformed smoothly, her vain side coming out as she took her time to show off her transformation sequence. She stood up just outside the doors, back straight and hands on her hips, her tail curling lazily around her left leg. His large, rotating blue optics lit up the youthful planes of his face, his shock evident even without a mouth.

**: You're a…femme!?**

"Is that a problem?" Atalanta spoke with a smirk. "Is there room for one more, or do you want to come out to say hi?"

After the house had been turned into a warzone by the Allspark shard turning the electrical appliances sentient and Bumblebee blasting away the supports of the house to save Sam from the mini terrors, Ron and Judy Witwicky had taken the opportunity to renovate the entire property, making use of the government taking care of all costs. Sometimes, it paid to be one of the only civilians who knew of the Autobots.

While the main building had been build as a near replica of the old house, more bushes and huge trees had been packed together around the garden that the house sat in the middle of. An extremely tall wooden fence hid most of the back garden, so that impromptu visits from the younger and bored bots could be achieved in relative secret. Judy's dream hot tub had been added by the back stone patio, and Bumblebee's garage had been upgraded so that he could easily stand up and move about, much to his relief. While Ironhide and Ratchet could barely crouch in it, and Optimus would never be able to fit, Bumblebee was small enough to relax at ease, with room to spare now as all the old tools of Ron's had been moved to a small shed at the back of the property.

Bumblebee couldn't _believe_ it.

In front of him right now, was a Primus forsaken _femme _with a giant, dinosaur like _tail! _If it weren't for the fact that she had spoken so well, he would've assumed that she was a dinobot, or more likely a predacon; but considering that he had never heard of one that was female or even neutral, he knew that that couldn't be true.

She practically had an aura of danger, with sharp edges all around her armour. Bumblebee had never seen a femme like this; most femmes, even military built ones like Chromia or Elita were made up of smooth, interlocking armour with soft paints and a lighter frame. While this femme had an hourglass frame that was making Bee's crotch plating heat up, she was made up of pure muscle, and her paintjob was a lethal looking grey. Her helm armour was miniscule, like a headband, and she actually had flexible, long curls of _hair _like a human! The wires themselves looked extremely soft, like the metal fur of Cybertron's wildlife, especially the Cyberwolves.

If it wasn't for her blue optics, he would've have assumed that she was a Decepticon. Her tail was now swinging behind her, and her dark lip plates wore a friendly, wide smirk. Bee's cooling vents decided at that moment to turn on loudly, and if he had been in his holoform, he knew it would be blushing _badly. _

Bumblebee shook his head and blinked a few times at Atalanta when she spoke. He whirred in confusion, apologetically asking her to repeat it, and she did so with amusement sparking in her eyes.

**: Y-Yes! Come in! **

Atalanta walked into the garage and held out her hand to shake his. Eagerly, he did so, a stupid grin shining through his eyes.

"So, how long will the others be? Or are you going to take me there?" She inquired.

Bumblebee chirped, looking bashful now that he'd been caught. Atalanta laughed and shook her head. "Don't worry, I would've done the same."

**: Sorry, you know, standard procedure. A few bots are en route to our location now. **

She cocked her head when he answered, and Bumblebee could help but feel like he had been upgraded to his teenage frame again. "Why are you only answering through the com links?"

**: Wha-oh! My vocal cords are damaged. Our CMO Ratchet is still working on it, but the materials needed are hard to obtain on Earth, and he usually is really busy with battle injuries and such. **

Atalanta grimaced. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, you probably get that a lot." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chevron and head.

**: You have **_**no**_** idea! **

She laughed. This bot certainly was perky, and so cute! Not _all _of the mechs were like this, were they? Atalanta remembered his part so far as Sam Witwicky's guardian fairly easily, so it made sense that he would be the one on site. Bumblebee seemed that he would be 18 or 19 in human years, or an extremely childish young adult. She absently thought about him as a soldier; her gut twisted a little. Sure, she had been fighting for as long as she could remember, but that was only for herself, not because of a duty to your goddamn planet!

**: You know, I've seen a femme like you before. I mean, you're like, tall! And the err, tail's different as well.**

She chuckled. Definitely a teenager. "Yeah, my CNA's a little freaky. Am I tall for a femme?"

**: Well, most are under my height or the same, I guess. How tall **_**are **_**you?! **

Atalanta laughed at his begrudging expression. He truly was easy to read. "Over 20 foot, I think."

**: That's…really unfair. So how long have you been on Earth? **

Atalanta briefly opened the log that she'd been keeping in her HUD. "Just under a day. I landed in some forest, luckily not too far away. I have to say though, humans as so fucking slow!"

**: That's weird…I would've thought that you'd been here a while; I mean, you seem to know a **_**lot**_** about Earth talk and customs.**

Atalanta noticed how his frame had tensed once again. _Ever the soldier _she thought. Her best policy here would be to be as honest as possible without sounding like a loon. "I've been here before, lets just say."

**: Really. **

She turned a hard glare at him. "You calling me a liar?"

Bumblebee fought the urge to look away from those optics.

**: I think you're being vague on purpose, femme.**

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Look, I know that you don't trust me, which is frankly comforting; I'm glad I'm not going to the side that would train their scouts that badly. My past is…_complicated_, and I'd rather explain that to your Prime. You can look in my processor and everything, I'm not lying and I genuinely don't mean you any harm, and not your human allies either."

_Idiot! _Atalanta thought as she saw the clasps on Bumblebee's wrists open, his cannons coming onto standby. _Bring up his role as a guardian while you're at his house, why don't you? _

**: What do you mean by **_**that**_**?! And how did you know about the Witwicky's if you only landed yesterday? **

She held up her hands in surrender. "I'm really sorry, but if I tell you now, you'll think I'm lying and shoot my spark out, okay? I'm _not_ here to hurt your charge, I just didn't know how to contact the Autobots without alerting the Decepticons as well, and this was my best lead."

Just as Bumblebee was about to answer, the sound of approaching vehicles made them turn. A bike and two cars sat in the driveway, all three with bright Autobot tattoos on the paintwork. The bike was a Ducati 848 with a violent magenta colour and Cybertronian glyphs worked into the custom paintjob. Next to it was a red Dodge challenger with a set of bullhorns on the bonnet of the car, and behind them a blue Ford Gt-40 with white racing stripes.

Bumble gestured for Atalanta to move, and she did so, trying to keep a neutral face even though her nerves were crackling. She had the horrible feeling of being trapped, and had to remind herself that these were the ones who wanted to _save _sentient beings.

A feminine voice from the motorcycle cut through the silence. "Alright bot, you're going to have to transform and follow us. Any funny business and we'll offline you faster than you can transform, you got it?"

Atalanta nodded. "I understand. I'm not here to start something." She transformed quickly and rolled forward to indicate that she was ready.

The motorcycle blinked her lights and then backed up to turn. "Ok. Bee, you take the rear, Cliff and Blue, take her sides while I'll lead. You got that, neutral?"

"Clear as day."

"Autobots, roll out."

**Voila! The Autobots meet Atalanta! Well, some of them, anyway. So it's not the best of hellos, but what can you expect, eh? **

**Another AU note of sorts. For the biker femmes, I'd rather base the on their two legged models, rather than the wheel balancing type. Also, I've decided to make them taller, for example, Arcee would be a tiny bit small than Bee, while Chromia and Elita would be a bit taller as more mature and military build femmes, especially 'Mia. Moonracer is going to be portrayed as a very sweet femme (apart from when she's throwing wrenches back at Ratchet!) so to match that, she's going to be unusually small and reach Bee's chassis. **

**Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think! **

**Love,**

**Renzin ox**


	4. Chapter 4

Alien By Perspective

"Easy! Take it easy! I hate personal violence, especially when _I'm_ the person!" – Blake's 7

Chapter 4

The parade of sleek, custom vehicles drove in the aforementioned formation all the way out to the open desert roads of Nevada, where clear stretches of red rocks had steam coming off of them, the occasional small lizard darting between the short and stubby, rough wild plants. Atalanta was certain that the 4 Autobots escorting her out of Tranquillity were having their own tactical conversation away from her 'untrustworthy' audios on their own private com frequencies, but for her the entire drive was muted. Eventually, after driving down the dusty yet smooth double carriage road for 10 minutes with no organics in sight, Atalanta's HUD screen barked out an error message, informing her that her navigations systems were being scrabbled. The open window of her road map (graciously supplied by the internet) was dashing in and out of readable view in static frizzles of black and white.

Her entire frame tensed and flared its sharp outer panels like a hissing feline in agitation. The two Autobots on either side of her tensed as well, however soon recovered when Bumblebee commed her on the open frequency.

**: Just protocol, Atalanta. HQ's about to send a ground bridge. **

**: Got it. Sorry, just didn't expect it. **

Another deeper, smoother male voice answered, the red Dodge to her left bouncing on its axels as if it was gesticulating.

**: You didn't think we were going to bring you along to base and find out it's coordinates, did'ja femme? **

**: Never gave it much thought, cowboy. **Atalanta answered, biting back a harsher retort that would probably bite her the social ass later. 'Cliff' as she believed he was called, just snorted, but otherwise didn't reply. Moments later, the femme motorcycle commed them.

**: Alright, base has just opened the ground bridge. Neut' we're going to drive through, and don't even think of pulling anything, or you'll have a hell of a lot of plasma blasters to dodge. **

**: Primus, do I **_**look **_**like a terrorist to you? **

The blue Ford jumped into the conversation. His voice was light and youthful like Bumblebee's, perhaps a little older.

**: Well, you're paintjob is pretty scary looking, I mean, it's all dark and stuff and you've got all these spikes, which a lot of the Con's have. Not that it doesn't look nice! You look great! Wait no – I mean you **_**do, **_**but I didn't mean to say that! I'm sorry! I understand that some femmes don't like being looked at like that, and I'm really sor-" **

**:BLUESTREAK! Shut it, this isn't the time to make a new **_**friend! **_The motorcycle snapped. Atalanta internally cooed, this mech was cuter than Bumblebee!

**: Sorry Arcee. **

Bluestreak wilted closer to the ground as they approached a mass of the swirling green ground bridge portal. Atalanta, feeling pity for him and mischievous enough to rattle Arcee up a little, commed back soothingly.

**: Bluestreak, right? Don't worry about it, I'mma more hands on kind of femme, so no offense taken. **

**: Gee thanks, I mean that's great how forgiving you are I sure hope you aren't **_**really **_**a Decepticon-" **

Bluestreak's eager reply was cut off by another scolding order from Arcee as they passed through the ground bridge portal. Similar to looking directly at a fireworks display, Atalanta's optics blurred, her headlamps blinking a little to clear them. She slowed down a little when she noticed the others had, though only she had swerved a little on the landing. They were now ploughing down a different road, drawing up to the large gate of a military designed wall. The soldiers at the gates, after recognising their allies, opened them. This process was repeated twice more, each gate attached to smaller but equally well-manned frontiers. After passing through the final one, Atalanta took in the sight of the colossal military base in front of her. She had seen barracks for armies going to _war _in the cosmos smaller that this!

Though her visits always seemed to involve breaking _in _or _out _of them. Usually the latter, in all honesty.

Many giant concrete buildings attached like large branches to a centre point where the main base was, while various hangers and strips of landing areas sat like islands around it. A long way away from the outer walls, a humid, more natural outland could be seen, large gatherings of trees trailing around rocky hills. The edges of shallow white beaches could be seen poking out in the distance as the heavy sun boiled the left over fuel in Atalanta's tanks. Her energon readings nagged her, only added to the stress that she could normally easily dismiss.

Hundreds of humans ran around, all busy at work, most in some sort of military garb, most looking up at the passing transformers as they passed. A few smiles and waved at the Autobots, who returned their greetings, while Atalanta gained a lot of fearful, curious and wary expressions. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her concentration split from having to carefully manoeuvre her pedes around the humans, she couldn't help but preen. She had always been a bit of a stubborn show off, and was pretty proud of her new _badass_ exterior.

However the most amazing sight was not all of this for Atalanta.

Before her, Cybertronians were walking around the base, most venturing to the side of the base and hanger that Atalanta assumed had been assigned to them.

Most buildings were obviously built to easily allow access to both races. She could understand why the others were wary of her looks now; most had bright, colourful designs, none with an extra animalistic appendage as far as she could tell.

Just to spite the mental segregation, her tail started swirling around the air with more vigour than before.

She was marched towards the largest hanger. As she passed the Cybertronians, she bite back to urge to show her sadness at the glares and cut off, cold gazes. While she couldn't blame them, she couldn't help but sulk. This certainly wasn't the hello she was hoping for after fucking _dying_, agreeing to help their gods out, changing species, crash lands and then driving for a day straight to track down the Autobots through the Facebook supplied information of a greasy University student. Perhaps she should've just gone and blown something up to get their attention; it would certainly save time and not wear her poor tires down as much.

A few had wary but friendlier expressions on their faces, though they kept their distance as well, watching her every move. Atalanta got to see more of the femmes as well, there were noticeably less of them; most were shorter than the full grown mechs, and even in their thick battle armour, they were all streamlined and smooth contours. Their features were similar to a human's, with curved lips and large eyes. Most seemed to hold the same proportions to be considered attractive.

Bumblebee gave Atalanta a gentle push to keep up the pace. She gave him a small thanks and hastily followed as they walked her into the main hanger, that was buzzing with both organic and robotic life. Huge ramps connected to a raised block in the end for the humans so that they could converse easily with the transformers. Various workers typed away at a small group of computers, while mechanics were bustling around some transformers while in their alt modes. The few that were, quickly transformed and moved out of the way when they entered, eying Atalanta intently.

At the main platform of the building, an incredibly tall mech turned to face them. Without ever seeing him before, Atalanta knew just from the Primus and Unicron's words that this was the living Prime. _Optimus _Prime, in all his honourable glory. She could see what all the fuss was about, her processor slightly stalling at the presence he commanded. There was an old wisdom in his eyes, as well as a polite kindness that was directed at _her. _

Unlike many of the mechs that were either shorter or similar to her in height, Optimus Prime towered over her, his body coated in red and blue flames, standing tall and proud like the freedom fighter he was to the Autobots.

It was utterly paralysing, meeting him in person, and reminding me that he was a mech of Primus. And then he spoke, in an incredibly deep, steady voice.

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. I understand that you have been seeking us. What is your name?"

"Atalanta." she said bluntly. "I want to join your fraction, I want to fight with you." Details could be explained later.

He nodded. "I see. You will have to be questioned privately, and your loyalty assured, Atalanta. Jazz; take your team and our guest to sector 2. I will be along shortly."

Or now; not like she had a choice, Atalanta grimly thought.

A couple of bots walked forward; most were on the shorter side for mechs and held lithe frames, but were by no means puny. Rather than thick muscles and hard plating, they had bouncier joints and grapple style weapons attached to them. What seemed to be the leader of them swaggered forward, head high and adorned with a sapphire visor that tucked behind his pointed audio fins. The mech held his shoulders back with confidence and his armour was completely silver, stylishly gleaming and several shades lighter than Atalanta's own. His hips were fitted with compact pockets like a utility belt, the rim made up of a thick, detachable rope like wire. The 'v' shape of his torso was exaggerated by his broad shoulders, where extra, looser plating indicated that this bot could mount some sort of weapon there. He gave her a chilled smile, his confidence making Atalanta wary, her eyes watching him as intently as he watched her.

"You got it, Prime. C'ommon, femme, follow ol' Jazzy an' tha crew" His accent was smooth, a mix between a rough street sound and something cooler, with harsher consonants. To her, Jazz sounded like the old first mate to the Captain, who had been one of the last of the Teakins, though it was more likely that this bot had picked it up from humans in a particular region that she hadn't come across.

She stiffly followed him, or rather, he somehow walked next to her while still leading the way. His team followed tensely behind, in a similar formation to the one that she had driven here in. Everybody was watching. Usually she'd be a lot more jovial and sarcastic, maybe poke someone in the ribs or hum some obnoxious tune, but now she was full of nerves and silent. Her usual humour seemed to have been sucked out her. Was this permanent? Paley, Atalanta grimaced with forlorn. How much had she _really_ changed?

**I Know this is uber short –insert apology here- but as school's started again, I've haven't had a lot of time (I know what you're thinking, 'oh **_**that **_**old excuse') and figured it would be better to get at least **_**something **_**out there to retain activity in the progression of this story. **

**A short summary of what's happened in the wonderful world of **_**moi**_**: **

**I'm redoing a couple of exams that I want to do better in; nothing horrendous, just a couple of Bs that I want to improve for Uni and shizzle. **

**School play- OOOHHHHHH we're doing GREASE! I don't even care if it's a cliché for school, it's DANNY ZUKO BABBBBAAAAY! **

**I picked up art as an alevel. Casual. **

**Forgetting to call and say I'm staying over after party + skinhead friend dropping me off at 5 in the morning = frenzy of Asian mother **

**I've picked up busking in the street again :D **

**As usual, please review, and thank you for staying tuned! **

**Love,**

**Renzin xo**


	5. Chapter 5

Alien By Perspective

_"That's the thing about people who think they hate computers...What they really hate are lousy programmers." – Larry Niven_

Chapter 5

Atalanta tended not to regret or criticize herself. Usually when she was a little too dramatic with leaving her mark, or couldn't keep her mouth shut, she would simply laugh the situation away and crack some senile, often twistedly insulting joke to 'lighten' the situation. A lot of petty fighting would follow, along with some _bizarre_ escape plan and crossing off another port on her map of the cosmos to avoid.

However _this_ world was different.

There seemed to be a set of rules that she couldn't bend, or some secret that everyone knew but her.

_She _was different.

Her beloved scout ship was spit into a billion particles, most likely adding to the formation of new stars and clouds above. Her old body was gone, and while mere hours ago she was unfazed by that, doubt was seeping into the cracks of her confidence.

Atalanta could practically _taste_ the damp fog over her. She felt more negative, filled with angst. Any of her usual wise cracking was done bitterly, in her own mind. Perhaps it was for the better. For once, she was being interrogated so that she could _stay _somewhere, not by people trying to lock her up.

Grimly she scowled. Perhaps she was wrong on that account. The Autobots weren't _exactly_ throwing it back with her.

But then again, why would they? And how could she be so utterly, abysmally idiotic? Not in a thousand years would she have been so moronic to simply dash off like a puppy on the heels of their owner. She was a hunter for god's sake! How could she have made such a rookie mistake! Sure, she ran blindly into a lot of things, but there was always a plan a, b, c…you get the picture. There was always a way out that was _almost_ as good as pressing a rewind button.

Her own naivety, something she thought had been lost in her teens, made her pull a crinkled expression.

Briefly, Atalanta was distracted with apt wonder at how similar her facial plates were to the flesh of her old face. The fibrous muscles were constructed of cross-hatched meshes, interlocked on a microscopic level like glycosidic bonds. A whisper of metal on metal was caught by her audio receptors as they stiffened and tilted to catch the sound waves.

Her own stupidity had brought her here. In the brig of the Autobot base, sitting cross-legged against the grey walls of her cell. It was literally a cube. She could reach the base of the other wall by lying flat on her back, pressing her feet against the smooth surface to get a painfully satisfying stretch up the back of her legs. The lights were high up, snuggled against daring cameras. The rim of the door was visible by its thin indent of the frame opposite her. There was no way of opening it on this side, as far as she could fathom. Or maybe she was just to brain dead tired, not to mention fucking _bored _to try.

Atalanta had been blunt with Jazz and his team. The moment they had led her into an equally grey and hostile interrogation room to the cell that she was in now, she had opened the port at the base of her neck and starchily said, "Let's get crackin' shall we?"

Her answer was silence, but as Jazz moved around her to feed his connection plug in, she had seen a relaxed smirk grace his features. This bot was rare, to be able to hold such an aura of confidence and amiability while still making her plating tense. In her experience, people like that were the once who walked away alive and smug at the end of the day. The three other bots took up positions, a manner of routine it seemed around the room, watching her like hawks.

Feeling someone shift through your processor made her want to heave. She had never met a telepath before, but it must have held a similar sensation. Before even entering the outer limitations of her mind, Jazz had deployed various coding to protect himself from whatever he expected to be attacked with. Instinctively, Atalanta accidently activated her own mechanical immune response, and she started to panic at the thought that Jazz would get the wrong message. However without hesitation, the mech cornered every one into a firewall, encasing them into dormancy to think that there was no threat. The simplicity of her defences was thoroughly embarrassing, but then again, Atalanta had never been a great computer expert. Basic hacker and saboteur, yes. But she could easily see that Jazz outclassed her skill. And if she was honest with herself, most of the time she got bored and just stuck some plasma bombs under the keyboard for the next luck user.

Her HUB screen was alight, agitated in red and tracking Jazz's movements. He hummed quietly as he shifted through her statistical information, the slight sucking sensation on her neck telling her that he was copying everything he found after searching for viruses and other hidden defences. If any, they were negligible in slowing him down.

Jazz pursed his lip plates in curiosity as he worked into the deeper cores of the femme's processor. The complexity of her processor was like that of a youngling, or even the average bot's before the Great War started, where the defences of a soldier's processor would have been reserved for those in high positions and military class. She didn't even have the basic coding to send mediocre viruses at him! He could tell any that went his way, she was trying to prevent, but the question was _why _was she having such difficulty controlling her own processor?

Suspiciously, he stopped humming when he saw Atalanta cringe as he entered her memory core. Jazz prepared himself for whatever he was about to download.

In hindsight, he knew that _nothing _would've prepared him for what he saw.

**: Prime?**

A pause, and then a response.

**: Yes Jazz. What is your report? Has there been any development? **

As his own processor pinged, informing him that he had viewed every part of the femme's processor, he retracted his connective plug out of her and stepped back, staring at the femme that by everything he knew _should not exist. _Hell, she had _seen _things that she shouldn't have, and now he had too.

Was it normal to not react when you just saw a conversation with your creators in an _ex-human's processor? _

**: I'll send ya what ah found. Jus'…make sure ta' sit down fer this one, Optimus.**

The silence reigned. Atalanta grimly stared at nothing, focusing on the humming of her engines as she tried to calm her anxiety. Jazz noted that Blinder, the newest to join his team, was loosing his blank exterior. He wasn't used to interrogation training yet, and the lack of action was making him twitchy. Even more so now that Atalanta had picked up on the fact, and was staring him down, making him twitch _even more_. A mental note for extra training was made. Eventually;

**:…Are you certain of the validity of this data file you have sent me, Jazz? **

**: Ah hundred times ova'. Ah know it seems incredible, but that's what's in her processor. Want me ta' check if Shockwave or Soundwave have planted it? **

**: That won't be necessary. Her encounter with Primus and Unicron, they match the images the Matrix has shown me. Not even those cons could have manifested a bluff like that. Make sure that she is given some energon, and then send her to the brig. Place guards especially for her cell. Report to me immediately after dismissing your team. I shall call the other senior commanders to inform them. **

**: You got it, Prime. Jazz out. **

Atalanta would internally moan about how she didn't know how long she'd been in the cell, but her HUB screen all too cheerfully informed her that it had been for 5 human hours, 23 minutes and 13.49 seconds. Vaguely, she noted that her processor prioritised the human measurement, with the Cybertronian equivalent in small digits below.

She wished Barkuub were here. Even in the same _universe _would've been nice. Alive at the very least.

God, she felt needy.

Dryly, she chuckled to herself. _Primus_, actually.

It was almost as bad as being in the black hole again, but for actually having the time on her. Her mind was starting to race again, anxiety and bad memories lifting through the base of her spine like a toxic gas. She forced the excess air out of her tanks and sprang up with too much energy, instinctively falling into a crouch. After a moment of unsure blinking and listening to the whirring of her own gears for what felt like the thousandth time, she steadily rose up like she had the very first time she had done so in this form. Habitually, she ran a clawed hand through her copper wired hair, tapping her thin band like chevron as each finger slipped over it. The curls still tangled in the same pattern as they had before, which was an odd relief.

How long did it take to decide her fate? In all honesty, she didn't have much experience in the situation she was in. Usually she didn't cooperate. Usually, she would've blown the place up five ways Sunday by now. Fuck, (translated to _frag_, her HUB told her) she even had her own built in weapons system, and she hadn't even scratched the paint of her cell!

Exactly 12 minutes 54.33 seconds later, her enhanced audios caught the footfalls of several persons approaching. By the sound of it, the walls were thick, though she had guessed that, and seen the thickness of the doorframe when she was shoved in here before. The 'ting' and 'pling' sounding footfalls indicated Cybertronians, though she hadn't seen any humans near the brig, now that she thought about it. One of the bots was larger, she guessed. Their engine seemed to rattle, and there was a heavy cloud of greasing oil she could smell as the party neared the other side of the door. For some reason, she associated that smell with age.

The 2 guards outside sprang up to attention at the sight of the mechs and femme in front of them. Atalanta smirked with mirth, the clanking of straightening spines distinct. A gruff rumble of a voice snapped for the door to be opened and moments later it slunk in to the sides of the walls to reveal a towering black and silver mech, his narrowed eyes and stand by cannons making Atalanta barely resist the urge to run away with wide eyes.

Everything about this mech screamed military and tough. You simply _did not _mess with this mech. His battle armour was no nonsense, with the glyphs on his armour representing his high rank. Everything about him was huge; he was at least 5 or 6 feet taller than her, and his thick dark plating made that fact even more prominent. His surprisingly light blue optics were drilling holes into her with the mother of all glares as if she had just admitted to smelting his grandmother.

Next to him, a much slimmer mech that she had not seen before stared emotionlessly at her, his blank blue optics hidden by a visor similar to Jazz's. He seemed to hold a similar function, as his armour was also streamlined and lightweight with many glyphs, however this paint job was black with gold and white detailing. This mech stood with a perfect posture, and commanded just as much presence as the hulking monster of a mech next to him.

Finishing off the party was Arcee, the magenta biker femme from her first escort team of the day, stood with her hand on her hip. She still had the same suspicious condescension about her as before. Instantly, Atalanta raised her upper lip in a threatening smirk, exposing her lengthening canines more than necessary. She happily noted that the scowl that was thrown back at her was not nearly as impressive.

Why did she get the feeling that crash landing had been the easy part?

**Here's chapter no.5 folks! **

**I hope you enjoy, and thanks to all the reviews (the constructive criticism is great), follows, and favourites! You're all stars! **

**On a side note, has any one watched ep1 of the new Gotham show? I'm in love, I just hope they can maintain it's awesomeness, like TWD or Arrow.**

**Love, **

**Renzin xo**


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